Avatar
by Bluefire Eternal
Summary: Avatar Fusion. ExS. He had only gone to Alagaesia to be able to walk again. Falling in love with a Dragon, the king's daughter no less, was not part of the plan. Love of his new people or loyalty to the old? What's a man between worlds to do?
1. To Alagaesia

**I promise, this is the last new story for a while. Watching _Avatar _again for the second time forced this plot bunny into existence. That, and the image of Saphira scaring the crap out of a Toruk was too good to resist ;). Not that there are any Toruks in this story, and there is a humanoid Saphira. Still, this fic is the perfect chance for me to work on writing 'modern day' stories and an opportunity for an ExS ship.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: If any of the material mentioned below, see the bottom of the chapter for more information regarding this AU. Remember, things are going to be very different in this one.**

**Disclaimer: _The Inheritance Cycle _and _Avatar _franchises are not mine. Both belong to Christopher Paolini and James Cameron, respectively. Had I owned them, I would be rolling around in my billions rather than writing out my sad fantasies. -sigh- On another note, all original material belongs to me. **

**Warning: This story contains ExS, though the characters are severely different than their canon incarnations, of course. The characters of this fan fiction bear little resemblance to their canon forms, so OOC-ness may occur, though I will try to fit these new versions to their true personalities to the best of my meager abilities. It is also loosely based off of Cameron's movie of the same name. For the vast majority of you that saw _Avatar_, you know the bloodbath that happens at the end. This may result in death for some unlucky characters, although I won't say who just about now. **

Eragon Cadoc Rider, son of Mr. Garrow Rider and Mrs. Marian Rider, found the entire situation surreal. Just a few months ago he had been present here, at the exact same crematorium, at another funeral for his own father. Now he had returned again, far earlier than he had ever expected to go, to say goodbye to the last true member of his family. All because some cocky punk-ass kid with a gun had decided to rob the convenient store he had been shopping at. All because the kid had gotten nervous and shot at Eragon's innocent brother when he tried talking him out of the stupid deed.

Now a young man that had been Eragon's only kin left in the world lay upon a metal tray, cold and stiff as if crafted from stone. They were strongly similar, far beyond the usual family resemblance; the same dirty-blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same damn facial features. Only this unfortunate soul was broader in frame than Eragon, having the muscular stature a strict exercise regimen could give.

Roran Rider had been the elder of the twins, born a whole fifteen minutes before his younger sibling. Since birth the brothers had been close, connected by some familial bond they could not even begin to explain. But while they shared an unbreakable bond and an eerie resemblance to the other, they could not have been more different on the inside. Their personalities were on opposite ends of the spectrum, bright day compared to dark night.

Roran had been the genius of the family, the pride of the Rider clan. By age sixteen he had graduated from high school and was progressing through higher education at a rapid rate. Shortly after his twenty-first birthday he had been among the chosen few to be selected into the Avatar Program. While Eragon couldn't even begin to comprehend the scientific spiel his twin had excitedly rambled on about, he understood Roran would be going into space to another world. Would one day walk side by side with _aliens._

Eragon had inherited the intelligence of his brother, just not the ambition and drive to strive ever higher. Where Roran had excelled in school, his younger sibling was sometimes barely scraping by. When Roran had gone to college at an early age, Eragon had simply joined the military after graduation. For several years he had participated in the many wars that ravaged Earth, until he had been paralyzed from the waist down by an errant bullet. His career was over by the time he was twenty-four, while Roran was then only weeks away from departing to Alagaesia, the moon which all of Earth had set their greedy eyes upon.

_But now that dream is dead, _Eragon thought. _A man with seemingly limitless potential, cut down in his prime by some bastard kid with a gun. The better of the Rider boys is dead and now only the useless cripple remains. _

Silently, Eragon watched as his brother's body was shoved into the furnace. Then the door was shut, and the man that was once Roran Garrow Rider was officially no more.

That was all there was too it, these days. Earth population numbered around twenty billion, and every inch of space was needed for shelter and fields meant for sustaining the living human beings. There was simply no room for the acres of tombstones cemeteries would need. So all of those that had died were cremated and their ashes duly disposed of. In a world were being a casualty of war or suffocating from lack of fresh air was commonplace, there was not much time or tears to be shed on those that were no longer players in the game of life.

"Our condolences, Mr. Rider. Your brother was a great man that will surely be missed my many."

Looking up from the closed door that now held his twin, Eragon stared into the impassive faces of two men clad in suits. Business men, the both of them, offering mindless pleasantries in an effort to 'relieve' his grief. He only nodded brusquely in response. Eragon had lost both his parents, and many of his comrades in battle. He could handle the death of even his beloved twin brother without losing composure.

"So as you told me when we first met several minutes ago," he intoned flatly. "Thank you for joining me for Roran's cremation, gentlemen. Now that the emotional hurdle has been cleared you two want to discuss business matters, I'm sure."

Unfased by his harshness, the first man nodded briskly. "As I am sure you are aware of, Mr. Rider, Roran was an invaluable part of the Avatar Project. Because of his unexpected demise, that leaves the Resources Development Administration without an operator for his Avatar. Frankly put, _you _are now the only one capable of piloting it."

For a brief second, Eragon couldn't contain his utter astonishment at such a blunt request. Then his shock vanished behind a sneer and a humorless laugh. "You're joking, right? _Pilot an Avatar? Me? _Fellas, I'm not Roran. My knowledge of Alagaesia is limited to a few newscasts and some obscure facts my brother attempted to ingrain into my mind. Didn't it take him years to be considered ready for this mission? And doesn't the ship to the moon leave in only a few days?"

The second man nodded with a grimace. "It does," he admitted. "That is exactly why it is imperative for you to accept our offer. Roran's Avatar body has already been created an will develop over the course of the journey to the Aiedail System and the moon Alagaesia. Billions have already been invested into it." He looked down at Eragon's wheelchair, disdain only thinly veiled. "While your military background isn't the most opportune profession for our line of work, you are literally the only other man able of operating Roran's Avatar. It has been grown to be compatible to only his DNA. Fortunately, as his identical twin, your DNA is virtually like Roran's. Passing up this opportunity means billions of dollars are going to be wasted for nothing."

"Too bad," Eragon spat. "I see no reason to leave Earth for a minimum of twelve years just to... identify leaves in the middle of nowhere. I have no interest in pursuing my brother's line of work and I doubt either of you has the incentive to coerce me into doing so."

The first man raised his hand, and began to automatically tick off the reasons on his fingers. "The adventure of exploring a strange and unknown land few members of your kind has ever stepped foot on. The incredible fame that will come with journeying to Alagaesia an inexperienced novice and returning home a scientific hero. The wealth that you'll receive after signing the contract and fulfilling your end of the bargain." He gave a fierce smile, eyes alight with a predator's gleam. "Oh. And the freedom."

Eragon's brow arched skeptically. "Freedom?"

The man's companion's eyes widened slightly in understanding, then nodded vigorously. "Yes. All Avatars are to be created free of the genetic and physical flaws that affect their operators. Roran's Avatar is completely mobile and free of any complications that may inflict you. In its body you'll be able to walk. Besides, I'm sure when you return to Earth you'll be able to afford the surgery necessary to repair your spine. Your current insurance may have not be enough to fund it, but I'm sure your salary as an RDA Avatar driver will be able to."

Leaning back in his wheelchair, the full gravity of the situation settled heavily upon him. The Avatar would be able to _walk. _Something he hadn't been able to do. That sort of capability, independence, had been beyond him for years. To be able to regain that freedom for a few short hours, even in an alien's unfamiliar body, would be worth it. Then there was the possibility of regaining full use of his own form later on....

For a moment he was quiet, carefully considering his options and weighing the risks involved, but only for a moment. Throwing caution to the wind, Eragon smiled broadly.

"Where do I sign up?"

* * *

Five days later, and one of the biggest spacecraft ever constructed was preparing to depart from the loading bay. Streams of people were trickling into it, carefully directed to the proper entrances and rooms. On the opposite side, crates containing everything from state-of-the-art weapons to oxygen takes were being loaded in. Wheeling his way through this last-minute chaos was Eragon, blue eyes turned up to stare at the monolith that was the RDA-funded _Pioneer. _The ship looked large enough to house an entire town, and for six Earth years it would indeed hold a population that numbered somewhere near a thousand.

Naturally, a man in a wheelchair stood out among the large crates and the largely imposing passengers boarding the _Pioneer. _While some passerby shot him confused looks, none bothered to direct him. Nor did he question them, in his insufferable male pride. Lost as he was, Eragon wasn't about to admit his weakness to his fellow RDA workers. Now, where did the Avatar drivers board...

"You're Eragon Rider, right? Roran's replacement?""

Startled from his reverie, his gaze snapped onto a young man around his age. With dark hair and a guarded face, the newcomer had that mysterious quality that made some women swoon. The stranger had to look downward to meet his eyes, but what adult didn't? Eragon estimated him to be of about average height, perhaps a few inches taller.

"Yes. Yes, I am," Eragon replied. "Wandering about like a lost puppy didn't give me away, did it?"

The stranger gave a ghost of a smile and extended a welcoming hand. "Partly. Mainly it's because you're a less-buff version of your brother. My name is Murtagh Redman, by the way. I trained alongside Roran in the Avatar Program."

Eragon took the proffered hand, though he tensed up at the final statement. Here before him was a man that had wanted to be sent into space and to some distant moon to play diplomat with some over-grown lizards. Someone that actually _knew _existed on that mysterious little world of Alagaesia. What did the experts in the matter have to say about a clueless greenhorn that signed on for the venture literally the almost-last minute?

But Murtagh didn't seem like a condescending prick or an arrogant hard-ass, and seemed like a rather decent human being. So far, so good. Instead he and Eragon merely walked (and wheeled) in the direction of the proper entrance for drivers, discussing everything from sports to family without ever breaching the topic they would be immersed in for the next good portion of their lives. It seemed to be an unspoken code; keep your mouth shut about Alagaesia until the ship was in orbit of the moon.

When the two passengers had boarded the _Pioneer _and began winding their way through the ship's twisted passageways and the crowds that packed them, all meaningless conversation regarding simple Earth matters was abandoned like the lives they were leaving behind on their home-planet. Everything gained more depth, as the impending reality of their upcoming voyage grew all the more imminent.

"So what do you know about the Avatar Program and Alagaesia?" Murtagh asked curiously. "I know Roran's death was sudden and they didn't have much time to inform you on much before you came here. They must have stuffed your brain full of all the information you could possibly contain, right?"

Recalling those five days of preparations, Eragon frowned. Much of that time had been spent performing tests on his mind and body to make sure he was compatible for Roran's Avatar. He had been poked and prodded at by scientists before being deemed ready for the venture. Then had come the bombardment of disclaimers and wavers he had been forced to sign before they would accept him. As if your consciousness into a foreign body and interacting with hostile natives of an alien world was dangerous. After the legal hurdles had been successfully crossed, he'd had about _half _of a day for one quick simulation and a crash course on the general overview of Alagaesia's life and mankind's situation with its indigenous people, the Dragons.

"Not really," Eragon admitted sheepishly.

Dark eyes widening in horror, Murtagh looked as if a global apocalypse was about to engulf all. _"No training!" _he shouted. "They're about to allow a thickheaded marine with no prior scientific background drive a five billion dollar Avatar? Oh, gods-"

"Sirs," a woman crew member interrupted tersely, eyeing both men with a reprehensible scowl. "Right this way, please. We shall be taking off shortly and we want all that are supposed to be in cryosleep to be so before we do."

She escorted them for the remainder of the journey, to a massive chamber that made Eragon gape in awe. These were cryo-chambers all right, rows after rows of them that could no doubt contain hundreds of hibernating personnel. All around him people were being assisted into the chambers, which were securely sealed before the freezing process began. The unnerving sight made him almost regret his agreement with the RDA, but it was too late for any self-respecting marine to back out.

"I've gotta go," Murtagh said to Eragon, gesturing at one of the few remaining empty pods that bore his name. "My chamber is right over there." He gave a wry smile and shook the other man's hand in farewell. "See you in a little less than six years." Then he was gone, leaving the crippled marine behind with the brusque female crew member.

With her assistance, Eragon climbed out of the wheelchair and into the cryo-chamber. Dealing with a newfound discovery of claustrophobia, he only dimly realized that Roran's name had been marked out and replaced by his as if by a hasty hand. His attention was mainly for the woman, who was rattling off a series of instructions as she hooked him up to several machines and inspected everything.

"When you feel a cold feeling begin to overcome you, don't try and resist. We've had problems with fighters in the past, and those that don't easily accept going into cryo tend to have heart attacks or perish later on when their body refuses to give in. Don't expect to dream. Going into cryosleep is just a step above a drugged coma. Should all go well, you shall wake up almost six years from now confused and lethargic. Refrain from panicking when you awake as then you could damage the chamber and yourself." The woman pulled back, a humorless smile playing at her lips. "Good night, Mr. Rider. Here's to hoping we meet again at Alagaesia." Then she shut the door with finality, and Eragon found himself sealed in the cryo-chamber like a dead man in his tomb.

True to the woman's words, Eragon soon felt a chill fill the chamber. It penetrated deep into his bones, freezing them solid while it coursed through his blood and turned it to stagnant ice. Like death, it slowly lurked into his mind, engulfing everything in a numbing haze.

Panic siezed him as this happened. He didn't _want _to be crammed into a cryo-chamber and frozen like leftovers. Six years would pass by on Earth and for the rest of mankind and all of that time he would spend trapped in here, unchanging and hung in some suspended animation. Something came over Eragon at that moment, a burning desire to live and fight for survival that drowned out all else. He wanted only to claw at his restraints, to burst free of his prison to the warmth before he lost himself to cryosleep like an unfortunate victim beneath icy water.

Remembering the woman's directions, he forced himself to remain calm, despite his protests. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, ignoring the overwhelming urge to cry out in despair as his mind was grudgingly pulled under by a deep force. Forgetting this frightening fact, he focused on other thoughts so that he would not subconsciously struggle and endanger his own life. What use was there in journeying to a faraway planet's moon if he croaked before the adventure really began?

_You'll be able to walk in six years, Eragon. The Dragon Avatar is fully functional and not paralyzed like you were. You'll be able to walk and run... and jump... and... be..._

Conscious thought deserted him as his mind was shattered into small shards that the blackness immediately gobbled up. The chamber finally lulled him into cryosleep, and Eragon drifted off into the dreamless slumber he had been promised.

Trapped in that state, he and hundreds of others would remain in cryosleep all the long voyage to the Aiedail System. When they awoke again, they would be orbiting a moon called Alagaesia and the strange mysteries and miracles that awaited them there.

Until then, many of the _Pioneer's _passengers slumbered on in their cryo-chambers. There was still several years to rest before the real trouble began.

**Next chapter: Eragon awakens in orbit and has a proper introduction into the extraordinary world of Alagaesia. He also meets some new companions, as well as lays eyes upon his Avatar form for the first time.**

**Eragon Rider: Eragon is the son of Garrow and Marian and the twin brother of Roran. He shares no blood relation with Murtagh. He is an ex-marine as he was paralyzed due to a bullet several years ago, and no longer has control of his legs. While having no interest in science, he agrees to pilot Roran's Avatar body to be able to gain independence again and to garner the funds necessary to one day repair his true body.**

**T****he Aiedail System and its Planets: Some distance away from our own solar system is a star called Aiedail. Around this sun orbits a single blue gas giant called Triton, after the Greek sea god. One of its three moons, Alagaesia, is capable of supporting advanced forms of life. While Alagaesia is only a fraction of Earth's size, it supports amazing features like the Emerald Forest (Du Weldenvarden) and the Skypeak Mountains (Beors), the likes of which had never been seen by mankind before. Its air can't be tolerated by humans and its populations consists of mainly large creatures far beyond the sizes of Earth's inhabitants, such as the Fenris (Shrrg to the Dragons) and Hogzillas (Nagra).**

**Dragons: These Dragons are not the ones from the books. They are bipedal, and live and operate in clans. Dragons reach about eight to nine feet in height, and have horns and claws they can use in combat, but prefer their own spears and handcrafted weapons. Communication between them and humans is difficult because their mouths jut out in snouts, but they have a way to swiftly converse with members of their kind. Dragons have wings, but they refuse to fly in front of humans. Scientists suspect they can not fly at all, and their wings are only the remnants of some distant ancestor's appendages. ****They tend to mainly reside in the mountains as they dislike open plains and forests. The Dragons called themselves '_Skulblaka' _and are naturally suspicious and hateful of all strange things, humans among them. So far, they are still hostile and resist efforts to improve relations between the RDA's Avatar drivers.**

**Avatars: In order to better improve relationships between the Dragons and humans, Avatars were created as the mediators. They are controlled by human drives that hook up to the bodies and control them from a distance. While keeping peace with the natives, Avatars regularly explore and categorize the animals and foliage of Alagaesia. For each driver selected for the program, DNA is gathered to create a compatible Avatar body which only the chosen pilot or one that shares their DNA can operate. Avatars are grown in pods and mature in a matter of only several years, while real Dragons and humans can take almost two decades to develop fully.**

**The _Pioneer: _A massive ship employed by the RDA, it has recently been constructed for a massive movement of crew and machinery to Alagaesia. It holds roughly about a thousand passengers. Many of which had been put into cryosleep for the duration of the long journey. Only several are awake for the voyage, including doctors working on the Avatars and crew members that monitor the conditions of the cryo-chambers and those hibernating within them.**


	2. Pop Quiz

**It's _ba-ack. _For now. Apologies for the mainly filler chapter ahead, but in my mind there had to be a break between Eragon waking up from cryosleep and meeting his Avatar for the very first time. Besides, the obligatory info dump had to be tossed in somewhere.**

**Disclaimer: Look at this story. Is Eragon a cripple in canon? No. Is Alagaesia a moon orbiting a gas giant? Certainly not. Is this plot not a blatant ripoff of James Cameron's _Avatar? YES. _Does this mean I don't own _the Inheritance Cycle_? Yes. Do I own any and all of the original material? Hell, yes. Any more questions?**

Cryosleep was something Eragon Cadoc Rider would never, _ever _experience again. Being shoved into that crammed chamber had stirred up a brand new case of claustrophobia. The unforgettable sensations of feeling your entire body slowly going numb and oblivion creeping over your consciousness were ones he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies. Nor losing six years of your life held up in suspended animation. Screw the unbelievable length of the journey. On the way back to Earth he was going back _awake. _

Speaking of awake, the process of arising from cryosleep was ten times more hellish than being forced into it. Death was hard. Resurrection was downright impossible, and his body was freaking tired of defying nature.

Imagine being rudely jarred into reality, out of a peaceful and dreamless haze and into the stark world of reality. Of blood rushing back into numbed limbs and setting every single one of them alight with liquid fire. (Or, at least the limbs that hadn't been irreversibly paralyzed.) The tumultuous chaos as thousands of thoughts and feelings hastened to sort themselves into something resembling an organized mind. Coming into such an indescribable hell, Eragon's first and understandable action from awakening from hibernation was to scream with his hoarse but still functional lungs.

_Then _his senses had come rushing back in full force. Eragon noticed he was still trapped in the cryo-chamber, lying helplessly on his back like an overturned crab and staring up at a ceiling only inches from his nose. Soft blue light emanated from the walls, providing just illumination for him to recognize the nightmarish predicament he was in.

There was no sound but unnerving silence. No smell but the unbearable stench of stale air. No sight but for the four walls that trapped him into something eerily akin to a casket. The only things left to Eragon were all the uncomfortable needles stuck into his arms and and the rapidly rising panic that threatened to overwhelm all remaining rational thought.

Veteran he was, not even a former marine that seen the inconceivable horrors of war could bear logically with the startling realization of being stranded alone in a box. Hell, his screaming was probably using up his severely limited air supply, but Eragon didn't care. All that came through was the sheer fucking _fear._

Then his desperate cries were cut off as burning light surged in to startle him silent. Clenching his eyes against the blinding radiance, a very stunned and pained Eragon waited for whatever torture was going to come next.

"Gods, kid," a man's gruff voice remarked with bemusement. "You sure got yourself a nice pair of lungs."

Rough hands came to wrap around his upper arms, helping to heave him out of the cryo-chamber and plopping him unceremoniously into a waiting wheelchair. Eragon tried his best to not be a limp sac of potatoes and did his best to pull his own wait. But such a thing was no easy feat when his body refused to obey his commands and the light was still too strong for his weakened eyes to handle.

Just as the unfamiliar man was placing him in the wheelchair, Eragon stubbornly wrenched his eyes open to once again gaze upon the world. Everything was blurry and dancing spots further hindered his vision, but he could at least determine basic shapes and colors. Like the weathered face of the aid that peered ruefully down at him.

"Rise and shine, princess," the man said in what must have been his usual greeting to freshly revived passengers. "There's still countless other people to wake up and I can't just waste all my time on one special needs case."

Despite his lingering drowsiness, Eragon managed to narrow his eyes in an indignant blur. " 'm naw a specia' needs case," he managed to slur grumpily.

The older man nodded absentmindedly. "Whatever you say. Here." Without further preamble, he dumped something into the former marine's lap. "There's the rations assigned to all travelers fresh from cryosleep. I don't care if you're hungry or not. Those energy bars are packed up with enough caffeine to make a bull elephant hyper and the higher-ups want you all bright and chipper by the time we land." He then proceeded to grab Eragon's wheelchair, helping to bring him out of the way where where he couldn't interfere from the traffic of people also emerging from the cryo-chambers.

"Tanks," Eragon slurred again.

"Oh, you won't be so grateful when your stomach starts to heave up all that food you're about to force on it," the aid answered blithely. "Take my advice; if you feel like you're about to hurl, do so before there's anything solid in you. The damn janitors are having trouble enough as it is."

Nodding blearily, the crippled man watched the aid walk off to assist others out of their pods before turning his attention to the masses passing him by. Every single one of their faces was as exhausted and gray as his probably was at the moment. Many clutched their at rations, but several rebellious ones were attempting to force theirs down their throats to their unruly stomachs. Not all heeded the old man's wise words, for their were indeed several heckled janitors with mops rushing about like chickens with their heads cut off as they scrambled to clean up the messes frequently tossed upon the floors.

_Too bad they weren't informed of this pleasant little experience beforehand, _Eragon, unable to tear away from the gruesome spectacle out of some morbid fascination, thought wryly. _Then I guess half of them wouldn't be here._

Unless, of course, they were all as dedicated to following their dreams as that Murtagh character was. If that was the case, then all of them would be willing to go through a lot more than some mild travel sickness in order to waste a few years of their lives on some distant moon inhabited by scaly aliens. One thing was for sure, the crowds were all toddling along like newborn lambs, but none refused to admit defeat. They grasped at others and leaned against the walls, slowly inching their way towards their individual destinations. Apparently their discomfort would not even temporarily delay them.

But in which direction was he supposed to head in? The initial mass of people was swiftly breaking into three separate flows that headed down three separate passages that would undoubtedly lead to further crossroads where the crowds would disperse even more. Since those that had planned out Eragon's crash course in the Avatar Program had neglected to inform him where he was to head after revival, he was utterly clueless about where to go.

Crippled though he was, Eragon still possessed enough of that illogical manly pride to not even consider asking directions. His ego could not handle the humiliation. So, Eragon casually sat out of the way, munching on his energy bars as he listened to the announcements that continued to come over the intercom system.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, the _Pioneer's _first stop shall be Ilirea. All crew members assigned there are to prepare for disembarking in approximately one hour. All aids and custodians shall report to the cryo-chambers to revive all remaining passengers still in suspended animation. SecOps troopers are to report to the auditorium for a telecommunications orientation with General Stephen Galbatorix before landing."_

Announcements like those commenced for some time, until they began to repeat themselves in what appeared to be an endless cycle. By that time Eragon had scarfed down his energy bars and finished the water bottle that had been included. The lingering drowsiness still cob-webbing his brain had begun to dissipate, and impatience roiled just beneath the surface.

When Eragon had been about to crumble and ask for directions, a certain Murtagh Redman chose that opportune moment to stumble over to his somewhat-friend. From the glazed sheen in his eyes and the wobble in every step, he had just been drudged out of cryosleep.

Secretly relieved that his manly ego would remain intact, Eragon showed his improved mood by smiling cheerfully at Murtagh. "Glad to see you're up and about. So, where too?"

Obviously not a morning person, Murtagh's response was to scowl and grunt like a brainless zombie. One hand holding Eragon's wheelchair and the other clutching his rations, he leaned heavily against the wall and tried to still the tremble in his stance. His companion allowed him a moment to regain composure, ready to pounce once he had.

"Follow me," was Murtagh's shockingly intelligble reply. "Before we go to where we're supposed to, I want to have a very important discussion with you."

Shrugging, Eragon complied. Murtagh's progress was slow do to his precarious dawdle, but he eventually managed to lead his fellow Avatar driver down a quiet hall. The two continued down the thankfully uncrowded passage for a small distance, both stopping to peer out a window in awe of the amazing sight that awaited them.

Space was nothing like those misleading pictures and videos. It was massive, its size too daunting for Eragon to even try to figure. His mind could only comprehend the vast blackness that engulfed the outside world, and the few pinpricks of light that penetrated that empty void. Closer than those distant stars was a brilliant orb of light that could have only been the star Aiedail.

The ship than banked steadily to the right before once again straightening its course. It allowed both observes a short glimpse of where they would be spending the next few years of their lives. But the first thing Eragon noticed was the _enormous _blue gas giant that was Poseidon that orbited around Aiedail. And orbiting about _Poseidon _was one of its six satellites, a mottled blue and green marble in comparison. Eragon groaned at the sight. He suspected that _that _moon was the infamous Alagaesia.

Still, not even that foreboding glimpse of his soon-to-be fate could dampen his wonder.

"Damn," he muttered. "No wonder why Roran wanted to be an astronaut."

Murtagh glanced at him curiously. "Roran wanted to be an astronaut?"

Eragon nodded. "Yeah, when we were kids. He wanted off Earth from the get-go. At first he just wanted to be an astronaut. You know, just leave the planet for a few missions every once and a while before returning home." The former marine sighed darkly, staring at the window while his mind wandered back to the past. _"Then _Roran discovered Alagaesia. He realized that he liked the alien life crap more than space itself. That there was a program that would allow him to walk among the Dragons and to _become _one of them."

Why had Roran been so enamored with those scaly savages? From what Eragon knew about the Dragons, they were little more than barbarians still stuck in their primal stage. They had no advanced civilisation. No form of swift and easy space travel that took days instead of years. Just beings barely a step about the common intelligent animal.

_He should have settled been an astronaut. The training program for that is far faster and it doesn't take you nearly as long to actually get started on it. Then Roran would have been safe up in space when that punk-ass kid got that fucking gun. But no. The damn bastard just had to go for the most sought after program out there-_

"Skulblaka_," _Murtagh mumbled quietly.

Eragon blinked in surprise. "What did you just say?"

The (slightly) older man shook his head with a slight smile. "'Dragon' is a slang term that only we humans use. 'Skulblaka' is what they call themselves in their native language. Did you honestly think a race of alien beings named themselves after a magical creature from our mythology?" Murtagh chuckled at the look that came over his friend's face at this discovery. "I'm an anthropologist that considers himself an amateur linguist. I'm probably one of the only people here that will use the technical terms. Even most of the drivers perfer the slang."

_And for good reason, _Eragon thought to himself. That sound had sounded more like a guttural hiss than a legitimate word from an actual language. Every sane human would choose to use familiar words than some unpronounceable foreign tongue. Political correctness didn't apply when you had creatures using a language not developed for human tongues.

But he kept this observation private. Instead, he chose to voice his less offensive question. "What does... _Scitlaka _mean?"

Murtagh winced at the butchering of his beloved language, but at least didn't go off on a furious lecture like Roran used to. "Don't worry. It took me years to master basic prononciation. As for Skulblaka? From what the scholars can discern, it loosely translates to _leather-flappers."_

Politeness be damned. There was no way Eragon could contain his understandable skepticism at his claim. "Leather-flappers? Seriously?"

"Oh, come on!" he spluttered. "It's not _that _outrageous. Skulblaka have vestigial wings, right? Besides, it's only the most commonly agreed translation of the word. Words in our language have multiple meanings. Maybe our view is completely different from that of the natives'-"

Still in a bad mood from revival from hibernation, Eragon's exhausted mind didn't even try to fathom what intellectual garbage that was spewing forth from Murtagh's mouth. Instead he stared absentmindedly out the window at the shrinking space and rapidly looming Alagaesia. Every once and a while he did throw in a vacant nod so his companion wouldn't suspect he'd zoned out, but his mind was elsewhere.

What did the native language matter to him? Only a few of the Avatar drivers actually constantly interacted with the Dragons on a daily basis. Avatars had far more uses than just making the indigenous population feel comfortable with their human neighbors. Those durable bodies were perfect for exploration of a harsh and mountainous landscape. Their agility and strength made Avatar bodies far more suitable for repairing and maintaining a base than their flimsy human counterparts. Not to mention they could survive in Alagaesia's toxic air without a constant supply of oxygen. Eragon would probably just be one the reconnaissance and security drivers. Never would a blockhead marine such as himself play diplomat for the Dragons when there were far more highly _qualified _experts upon the matter of inter-species politics.

Besides, the RDA's true purpose light-years from home was not for the scaly aliens. Rather, they wanted the large deposits of shiny rock the aliens coincidentally happened to live on. Draconium, as it was jokingly referred to amongst the common folk that frankly didn't give a care about the valuable commodity's scientific designation, was worth _three million _an ounce back home on planet Earth.

Naturally, the RDA wouldn't just shove peaceful natives off their land to mine draconium. Humans had 'learned from their historical mistakes' and powerful humanitarian groups were always lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce the moment they caught whiff of a rumor they believed violated the Dragons' rights. So the Avatar Program and peaceful means had sprung up, if only to satisfy the self-righteous audience always watching.

"We're going to be landing in less than an hour, right?" he stated wonderingly.

Startled from his language theories, Murtagh blinked. You still had to give the man his credit; he caught on to Eragon's gist in record time. "Yeah, we are. But Ilirea's only our first stop. We still got plenty of time before the _Pioneer _reaches our final destination." Giving Eragon an intense and slightly creepy glance, he stated seriously, "Members of the Program are supposed to report to the labs to check on their Avatars before landing to make sure everything's in order. I just want to make sure you don't make the rest of us newbies look like idiots in front of the scientists there."

Eragon spluttered in disgust. Really, he had expected far more respectful treatment from _Murtagh. _"Of course I'll be professional! I didn't just join the Marines to have my legs crippled just because I had no other options, you know. If I wanted, I could have actually attended college." His impatient mind just hadn't the capacity to learn the senseless things higher education required of him, that was all.

"You had a grand total of five days of training," Murtagh pointed out bluntly. "Most of those hours were probably spent taking tests to make sure you were actually compatible with Roran's Avatar. And getting you to sign all of the various disclosures and agreements. At best, your so-called instructors squeezed some basic facts down your throat and gave you a brief run in an Avatar simulation. At worse?" He shuddered at the very horrifying thought. "Let's just make sure you know the practical information of Alagaesia before we progress to the actual labs."

Sighing in irritation, Eragon clenched his eyes tightly shut and groped in his mind for all available information upon the topic that could be termed 'useful' to a jar-head such as himself. Then he recited it as best he could, praying he wasn't making an ass of himself in front of a certified expert in the field.

"There's three ports on Alagaesia, one in each of the major bases. Ilirea's the biggest and where all sorts of things are primarily shipped out and fresh supplies brought in. General Stephen Galbatorix heads the entire security operation from there. Then there is Therinsford, primarily a place for carting out raw draconium. That fat guy- Colonel Marcus Tabor, was his name - runs it. Carvahall was the last major base, the one closest to prime Dragon territory. I think some guy called Durza Carsaib is in charge there."

Murtagh nodded thoughtfully. "Good? Any reason why all of the Avatar-related things upon the _Pioneer _are heading only to Carvahall?"

"Um..." Racking his brain, Eragon at last discovered the information that had so eluded him earlier. "Carvahall is the only base that contains the complex facilities necessary to support it all. Only there are humans in constant contact with the Dragons and tensions between us and them tend to sometimes escalate into skirmishes. Avatars are intended to be stationed there as mediums between the two. Currently Dr. Angela Hawthorne heads the Avatars there and also runs the school meant to educate the Dragon children abouts humans and our culture so that they better understand us." _If those savages have the capacity to, _he added silently.

Grudgingly, Murtagh offered his approval. "It will have to do. That Nasuada Hounsou will have my head if I'm late to one of our meetings _again."_

Arching a brow at the curious choice of words, Eragon compliantly wheeled after what he considered his rambling but generally friendly and informative somewhat-friend. At least Murtagh was steadier on his feet now. Should he suddenly feel the desire to crumble to the ground and ask for a hand up... Well, Eragon was so curious in seeing his Avatar for the first time he was content to leave the scholarly man there.

**1. Spending almost six total years in hibernation is enough to make anyone grumpy. Give poor Eragon a hug. He woke up on the wrong side of the cryo-chamber.**

**2. In this story, the Dragons shall use a combination of canon ancient language and the dwarf language for their native tongue. Should I be needing a word which neither language can provide, I'll substitute with some Old Norse, as that's what Paolini ripped _his_languages from. Yes, I kept their name of Skulblaka, though its meaning is less than to be desired. That's what multiple translations comes in handy for :p.**

**3. At this point in time, Eragon's a teeny bit prejudiced toward the Dragons. If they were the same creatures indirectly responsible for the death of your beloved identical twin brother (who wouldn't have gone to the store had he not taken the job offer), wouldn't you hate them a little bit too? Give Ergy time. He'll come around.**


	3. Glimpses

**Is this an update, or are you just imagining it? Unless I'm imagining I'm posting a new chapter, then it really is a new chapter! -cheers- Sorry for the very prolonged wait, to readers old and new. Real life and my fickle muse are cruel, cruel mistresses.**

**Disclaimer: I really, really wish I was James Cameron, so that way I could be making money castles out of my millions. Or Chris Paolini, so I could at least have a popular book series, if not claim to TWO movies that grossed over a billion dollars. Alas, I am neither, and thus only own any original material not derived from either source.**

Several minutes, and several clumsy trips and near-falls from a still very disorientated Murtagh Redman later, the two drivers had finally made it to the wing of the _Pioneer _that housed the labs. Or, at least Eragon assumed it was the scientific wing. All the people around him were the scrawny and brainy types that had rarely ventured outside back on good ol' Planet Earth. At least not all of them were wearing white coats and glasses. (Though, considering that Murtagh was barely older than himself and the kind of estrogen bait most sane women would fawn over, Eragon had begun to realize that stereotypes weren't all they were cracked up to be.)

Eragon blinked as he curiously surveyed the chaos around him. Being in a wheelchair made him automatically safe from the pushing and bumping crowds, allowing him a comfortable view of the activity. Murtagh, however, had to brace himself against the tide of shoving and frantic bodies. Scientists and other workers shouted back and forth at each other: Had the Walkers been cleared for unloading? Had the last person that had been tinkering with the new surveying equipment bound for Carvahall safely packed back up? Were the transportation tanks for the new Avatars being readied?

"Where should we go?"

Considering how reliable Murtagh's information (both wanted and completely unnecessary) had proven, Eragon naturally turned to the trained professional for guidance. Judging at how the other Avatar Driver looked around, hopelessly lost in a crowed hallway, the former marine figured he should have placed his trust in another Dragon-obsessed scholar. That was when he decided to take matters into his own hands. Wheeling bravely forward, Eragon resorted to the time-tested tactic of just wandering aimlessly around until he stumbled upon his destination, or someone who could actually direct him to it, by sheer dumb luck.

As his random and untimely streaks of luck would have it, it only took three minutes of just riding around until Murtagh solved the problem for him. Raising a hand in greeting, he smiled and weaved through the crowds to a woman standing next to a sealed doorway. By the slightly strained smile on Murtagh's face, Eragon assumed this lady to be Dr. Nasuada Hounsou.

Seeing the two men approaching, the woman gave a slight smile in return. She looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties, biologically slightly older than Murtagh. Her skin was dark brown, and her long hair a silky ebony. So long as Eragon kept the fact that Nasuada was chronologically almost six years older than that, she was quite a pretty woman.

"Ah, Murtagh. About time you showed up. I had begun to think that you had been sent to the med ward because of standard cryo-chamber sickness." Her dark brown eyes took note of his pale face, trembling legs, and uneaten ration bars. That small smile momentarily turned into a rueful grin. "Good to see that I was wrong."

Murtagh was too tired to banter, and allowed himself to be teased without putting up a fight. "Uh huh. Nasuada, this is the novice everyone's been talking about."

Eragon tried not to scowl at the term. He had been forced to undergo the initiation into a tightly knit group once before, and had struggled until he had earned respect and acceptance from his fellow marines, just as they had also had to earn it from him. There had been the jeering from the experienced veterans returning for a second or third tour. Eragon would be damned if he just allowed himself to passively sit back and take more hazing, no matter how unintentional or light it may be.

"I'm Eragon," he said, holding out a hand. "Eragon Rider. Roran was my brother."

Nasuada nodded as she shook his offered hand with her free one, for the other one held an electronic tablet she had been furiously writing on before she had spotted Murtagh. "Yes. I know you two were identical twins, or else you wouldn't have been able to use his Avatar." Unlike many others, she had the tact to avoid ogling at his crippled legs, or being insensitive enough to ask about how he had gotten his injuries. "Despite your severely condensed training, I welcome you to the Avatar Program nevertheless, on behalf of Dr. Angela Ripley and all of the other members of the project."

Murtagh's brow furrowed. "Ripley? Dr. Hawthorne got married?"

Nasuada winced. "Divorced, actually. She had just begun the process of changing back to her maiden name by the time we took off. I've been in and out of cryo-sleep for years, keeping an eye on the development of each and every single Avatar. I've actually been up completely since we entered the solar system. Admittedly, I would have liked to keep those weeks off for a little longer, but I guess the higher-ups just wanted a professional awake full time to watch out for their twenty billion dollars."

Eragon did the math over in his head. Each Avatar had cost about five billion to create and fully mature. Millions alone were spent trying to get Dragon sperm to fertilize human eggs, or vice versa. Then would come the problems of ensuring enough human DNA was present for the body to be compatible with its controller, but with enough Dragon still in there to ensure the entire embryo remained viable. Accelerating the Avatar's growth over four times the normal speed, and keeping the developing science experiment free from unpleasant mutations and sicknesses, was entirely another challenge altogether. Not to mention implanting a neural device into the entire thing's empty brain to make it controllable.

Nasuada quickly scribbled down on her tablet before turning to the door and quickly pressing a code in. When the doors to the lab hissed open, she entered, Murtagh right behind her. Eragon also followed, though far less composed. The sleek, shiny lab that opened up before him was something right out of _Star Quest_, or whatever that old science fiction show Roran had been fascinated with was called. They were in a small room, with glass walls separating them from the main lab. Eragon knew enough about science to know that the walls sealed out foreign contaminates that could have inflicted the priceless specimens beyond.

"Katrina Butcher arrived some time before you. If I know Orrin, he likely is still holding her as a captive audience." Nasuada rolled in her eyes as she typed in yet another numerical code to gain access to the main lab. "Get that man started on Alagaesia, and you'll never get him to shut up. I'm just glad I was asleep most of the time he was up, the two of us worked different shifts, with the scientists permanently stationed on the _Pioneer _looking after our babies for us the rest of the time."

Eragon arched a skeptical brow. "Can you call giant lizards 'babies'?"

"I can, Eragon, I can. All four of those Avatars you're about to see are ones I helped to conceive and grow." She grinned jokingly. "While you're in those scaly new bodies of yours, boys, you might as well get used to calling me Momma." Eragon and Murtagh both flushed scarlet at this, sputtering and gaping at her like dying fish. Nasuada only calmly made her way into the main lab. "Hey, Orrin, Katrina, the late arrivals finally showed! Turned up they didn't get shoved out of airlocks after all."

Dr. Orrin Kingsleigh had also been assigned at Carvahall to replace one of two scientists that would finally be going back to Earth on the _Pioneer's _return trip. He was an olive-skinned, dark-haired man with a passion for science that worried even Murtagh. Considering that Eragon had grown up with an academic for a twin brother, he had known how to converse with Orrin without setting off an eruption of scientific crap he really couldn't care less about. So long as he remembered to do so in the future, Eragon was positive he and Dr. Kingsleigh would get along just fine.

He had actually recognized Katrina Butcher. Roran and her had gone together like peanut butter and jelly laced with super glue. Toward the end, Roran had even started bring her over to his weekly dinners with Eragon. They worked together, helping each other out in simulators and comprehensive tests of Alagaesia. What little free time was spent avidly discussing even more science, be it about Dragons or debating over how to best solve the ever-growing amount of problems the entire worldwide population of twenty billion faced. Eragon had expected something good to come out of their relationship, for Roran had always been incredibly awkward and uncomfortable around women. Hell, the universe had practically thrown him a fucking bone when he had met the beautiful and bright Katrina Butcher.

And then had come that fateful shooting in the convenient store. The last time Katrina and Eragon had spoken at been at Roran's wake, where they had shared in their sorrow and condolences. She hadn't the heart to attend the actual cremation. Eragon couldn't blame her for not going, for not many women would be able to bear the sight of seeing the man who could have been their soul-mate incinerated in some cold and impersonal facility.

"Come on, now," Orrin interrupted almost giddily. He was practically bouncing up and down in excitement, and Eragon wouldn't have thought him out of place amongst a class of hyperactive kindergartners. "Don't you two want to see your Avatars? It's been almost six years, for science's sake. Go and take a peek! We won't be transferring them to the portable tanks for some time."

Feeling a lump in his throat, and hearing his heart hammering with both trepidation and excitement, Eragon turned to stare at the four massive tanks that took up the far side of the lab. Several other scientists were walking along them, checking monitors or just simply readying the specimens for transfer. Each tank was filled with a viscous reddish fluid that obscured the Avatar within from view. But light coming from inside was just strong enough to illuminate the alien forms hovering inside the glass, stirring weakly with involuntary movements.

"Go on," Katrina prompted, gray eyes friendly. "If you thought the news pictures of Dragons were striking, you should see the real deal up close.

Eragon hadn't actually _seen _a Dragon's image in quite a long time. Prior to being recruited by the RDA, he had always turned off his television in his disgust when another news segment about damned Alagaesia had come on. His memories of them were rather fuzzy, as was that of his brief experience with the simulator. He just knew that Dragons were big, and scaly, and had claws and fangs and all sorts of extra appendages he would have to become accustomed to. Fortunately, the strange shape just including functioning legs.

"In these Avatars you'll notice more variation in appearances than in normal Dragons," Orrin explained to him. "The human DNA sometimes manifests itself in different ways, depending on which dominant and recessive genes win out. Also, don't expect the scale colors to make any sense. The gene variation to them is so complicated even we haven't fully unraveled it yet. Gods, we don't even know if your own hair color plays a factor or not."

Eragon wheeled over to the first tank, straining to see the massive form suspended within. The body was humanoid, but covered in ebony-black scales. It was only around six or seven feet tall, but the long, serpentine neck added on a good foot or two. A long tail branched out from the spine, and there was a folded, leathery bat-like wing on each shoulder-blade. Each and foot thankfully had four fingers and a thumb, though each was tipped with a claw sharp enough to tear straight through unprotected flesh. Two slender, graceful dark brown horns graced the dragon's head, curving slightly forwards. By the Avatar's lack of spikes and its slender body, Eragon guessed it was female.

Guessed, because there was no visible way of _knowing._

"That's right," Nasuada teased, coming forward to stand beside him. "Dragons keep their personal areas covered most of the time. Considering the brutal environment they call home, it's probably for the best. And Dragons are not mammals, if you're wondering about it. They don't produce milk, so no need for _mammary glands._ This is my Avatar." She patted the glass that separated the two affectionately. "Usually scientists don't get their own personal Avatars, but my higher-ups wanted to experiment. The embryo was created with as much Dragon DNA we felt comfortable injecting. Human DNA may have a detrimental effect on on the Avatar as a whole. In addition to looking after the normal Avatars, I'm supposed to assess my own and remark upon the differences to it."

Eragon arched a brow, confused as to what company would blow five billion dollars to create an Avatar that was as Draconic as possible. However, considering that insane company was also the one signing his paycheck, he kept his criticism quiet. Conspiracy theorists would probably be looking for another improbable reason for Nasuada's vague answers. He honestly couldn't care about it less, for his attention had turned to the other three Avatars.

The one next to Nasuada's must have been Katrina's. It had copper-colored scales and barely protruding horns, but its face was framed in small spikes. There was barely even a snout. Orrin wasted out no time in pointing out the Avatar's crest of darker brown hair. Scientists theorized the crest to be the result of a recessive gene, one that supposedly made the Dragon more attractive during courtship. Humans also preferred certain traits in potential mates, although their tastes rested on things other than hair.

"Please tell me this one is mine," Eragon pleaded, gaping at the Avatar within.

Where Katrina's and Nasuada's Avatars had been obviously feminine, this one was the shining example of the direct opposite. Its scales was a wine-red, mottled with an even darker shade of russet, its body a good foot taller and several times more muscular than the female Avatars. Two bone-white fangs protruded from a powerful snout, and two massive horns curled like a ram's crowned it's head. While the Avatar practically had no spikes or claws, Eragon really didn't care. The sheer size of the body and horns was more than enough for him.

"Sorry, Eragon, it's his." Nasuada nodded to a very smug Murtagh. "I'm sure you can use logical deduction to figure out which one is, though."

Eragon wheeled over to the last tank, unsure of what to think of the body floating within. Human DNA normally had a noticeable influence on the Avatars. Nasuada's small and slender one showed the best human proportions. Katrina's barely had a snout, in addition to a lack of spikes and horns. For the size of Murtagh's beast of an Avatar, it had very human hands and feet. Its wings were almost embarrassingly small. Eragon's Avatar was almost indistinguishable from a _real _Dragon.

His Avatar was smaller than Murtagh's, with more of a wiry build than sheer muscle. Its scales seemed to be dark blue through the red liquid, mottled with a shade of electric blue. Very prominent spikes wreathed his face and even traveled down his back, ending in a small club on his tail. Between the horns, covering a few of the spikes, was his very own mane of darkish hair. The Avatar possessed mean-looking talons on thankfully five-fingered hands and feet. Perhaps most unsettling was the face, which tapered out into a long muzzle. The Avatar's mouth was partially open, exposing frontal fangs far sharper than what were normal.

"Are you _sure _my Avatar wasn't altered?"

Orrin shook his head. "Genetics are a fickle thing, Rider. Dominant and recessive genes duke it out all the time. Our program really focuses on melding Dragon and human DNA only to the point where it is compatible for driver control. Beyond that, natural selection of genes has free reign. The only ones purposefully turned off are those that made Avatars more susceptible to illnesses, and the ones for fertility."

"Of course," Katrina chimed in. "Can you just imagine what would happen if these Avatars were sexually mature? The hormones alone would be enough to distract most drivers from their work, which is really, really bad on such a dangerous moon like Alagaesia. Add in the chance of conceiving, and you have a whole new set of issues. Would the hybrid offspring produced be viable? Would they be able to breed? How many genetic mutations would they have, how could their truly human parents care for them? If the offspring were created without sentient brains, like their Avatar parents, what _could _we do with their bodies? Not to mention the possibility of producing with a native-"

"Ugh!" Eragon gagged, not even wanting to comprehend the hideous possibilities anymore. He seriously regretted ever bringing the issue up. Honestly, who really cared if his Avatar had a little bit more lizard DNA in it than Roran's? "Too much information."

Murtagh glowered at him. It was obvious all the scientists in the room weren't happy that the jar-headed marine couldn't process the 'intriguing' hypothetical disasters they all loved to think up. Eragon should know, his brother had tested out the worst of his doomsday theories on him.

There was suddenly a violent jarring beneath them, and everyone braced themselves against it. Except poor Katrina, who was still just woozy enough to have her balance upset and come tipping forward into one of the tanks, sending just about everyone present into hysterics for both her and the five billion dollar meat puppet she had almost damaged. Eragon took the opportunity to stealthily roll out of the room and back into sanity. He supposed the ship had just landed at Ilirea, its first scheduled stop.

With at least an hour of unloading ahead, not to mention the additional stop at Therinsford before reaching Carvahall, Eragon just did the sensible thing: Wheeling himself over to a quiet corner, he closed his eyes for a final nap that would hopefully relieve him of any lingering drowsiness before his arrival at his destination, and tried not to think about the Dragon's face he had seen through the tank's walls would soon be worn as his own.

* * *

The _dvergar _had been warned to stay clear of this land; they had been warned countless times to never venture too far from their city of barren stone. She had seen for herself what they had done to the surrounding earth, of how they had torn down ancient forests and scarred the ancient forests to dig for a common rock they saw as precious. _'Dvergar' _was an accurate name for their despicable kind, for they were as small, ugly, and greedy as the creatures of Skulblakalegend they had been named after.

Allowing the dappled shadows to hide her, the young huntress carefully drew her bow and waited for her chance to strike. She had no worries about being spotted, for the darkness the surrounding mountains cast perfectly concealed even her glittering sapphire hide from sight. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the crowded undergrowth, a question going across the mental link with the one other she had recruited for this mission.

A message of agreement was sent back along the connection. Two intense crimson eyes suddenly emerged from the foliage, burning like flames against the green. Then the owner of the eyes disappeared as easily as she, like he had never been.

She couldn't help but allow herself a pleased hum. _Perfect._

The _dvergar _were clever little animals. Their large and clunky machines were now more armored than ever before, designed to specifically withstand against the strength of a fully grown _Skulblaka_ and the tips of their sharpest arrows. Cunning as the weak-skinned savages were, though, they were not nearly intelligent enough to outfox the resourcefulness of a _Bjartskular _warrior. Especially not when two of them had joined forces solely for this task.

Arrows rained down upon the mechanical scout that had been sent out to search for more land to desecrate. Its thick covering would have protected it, had it not been for the crown of intense flame that adorned every single last arrow. Everything was too hot for the inanimate abomination's delicate innards to withstand. The machine stopped dead in its tracks, charred and melted beyond repair from even the _dvergar. _Considering that she knew such scouts were so valuable, she desperately hoped the intruders would learn to keep their expensive toys at home next time.

Mission accomplished, the two warriors dashed off into the mountains. They were just visible as streaks of sapphire-blue and crimson-red as the darted past an open clearing, before vanishing like ghosts into the wilderness.

_**Names: **_**Looking back now, I realized that Angela Hawthorne also happened to be the name of a character of a television show. This was completely unintentional, for I only wanted to give Angela the last name of a tough, prickly plant that related to her herbalist career in canon. Let's just say that Angela went back to maiden name of Ripley during those six years, because that was my second choice for her last name anyway. If anyone else is interested, Murtagh Redman comes from him being the Rider of a red dragon, Orrin Kingsleigh is obvious, Katrina's real father was a butcher, and Hounsou was the last name of the actor that played Nasuada's father in the movie. **

_**Dragon Anatomy: **_**For this story's sake, I've made the Dragons humanoid. Why? First, Dragons here can't telepathically communicate with humans, so they they need mouths that can at least approach making human speech. History also tells us humans are not the most tolerant of creatures. If the Dragons look vaguely humanoid and are capable of speech, then the RDA will have to play diplomat to appease the public. But with large, bestial dragons that never stop growing and can't communicate? Forget about it. In addition, I made the dragons mortal and gave them a slightly more realistic lifespan. An immortal creature reaches sexual maturity at six months and can crank out offspring until the end of time? Not gonna fly here. Dragons in this story reach physical maturity around the same age as a human does, and live only to about two hundred years old. Which makes the relationship between Eragon and Saphira a hell of a lot less awkward and squicky.**

**_Avatar DNA: _Avatar DNA usually contains more human DNA of its driver than necessary, in order to ensure a completely seamless and perfect linking. But once the basic connections are secured, its far cheaper to just let nature have control over the rest. That's why there's such a variation in Avatars, for it all depends on which genes are dominant and where. In addition to being genetically protected against most diseases, all Avatars are engineered to be infertile to prevent unnecessary complications such as hormones and the birth of hybrids. All Avatars are recognizable for their five-fingered hands and toes, small wings, and the modified human clothing they typically wear.**

**_Project Chameleon: _An offshoot of Project Morpheus, which first worked out the concept of mind-controlled Avatars, and of Project Wyrm, the current kind of Avatars developed and used on Alagaesia in the Avatar Project. Subjects of Project Chameleon resemble and are as genetically similar to actual Dragons as physically possible. Dr. Nasuada Hounsou is the first volunteer to be performing tests on a fully developed specimen. The project aims for Avatars with far better strength and stamina for working on Alagaesia, perhaps even gaining enough control of the vestigial wings to allow gliding. Incorporation of less human DNA makes the entire process cheaper. The main purpose of the Chameleon Project is rumored to be the acquiring of the "sixth sense" true Dragons have, ability used to somehow communicate with each other over vast distances.**

_**Dvergar: **_**Originally a **_**Skulblaka **_**legend about a race of short, wrinkled, bearded creatures who used to inhabit the mountains of Alagaesia. They were greedy creatures who wanted only to strip the mountains of their wealth, and were constantly at war with the **_**Skulblaka **_**clans. Eventually the **_**dvergar **_**were supposedly purged from the world. Humans bare an uncanny resemblance to the mythical beings, in addition to sharing their grabby and intrusive nature. The name itself can have negative or neutral connotations, depending on the speaker, for **_**Skulblaka **_**were just looking for a name from their own language to call their strange new neighbors by.**

_**Bjartskular **_**Clan: The Brightscales clan is one of the biggest clans on Alagaesia, controlling much of the **_**Carthungave, **_**or the Spine**_**. **_**Their territory is located just next to **_**Dvergardras **_**(Dwarf City), pulling them into most of the border and resources conflicts. The Brightscales clan was originally friendly to humans in the past, but their stance has switched to a far more hostile one over the past ten years.**


	4. Dragon's Den

**Disclaimer: I wish I could tell you that James Cameron really ****_was _****my Avatar and I was making my millions through him, but alas, the technology hasn't been invented yet and the concept of me being a middle-aged man is quite, quite creepy. Neither his material nor Chris Paolini's belongs to me. All original material does, however.**

Upon making yet another highly uncomfortable landing at Carvahall, the _Pioneer _released the last of its cargo and passengers that would be remaining on Alagaesia for the time being. After several days of rest for the crew and repairs for the ship, it was due to be stocked up with materials and people bound home for Earth. Eragon really couldn't care less about it anymore. His contract would keep him stranded on Alagaesia for the next _very _long six years, and it was good a time as any to start becoming accustomed to his moon-sized prison.

Smaller shuttles had ferried passengers down from the _Pioneer _and closer to the actual base. Bag of supplies in his lap, the Avatar driver attentively listened to the instructions that were being barked from a man who reminded him strongly of his old drill sergeants. Apparently the shuttles were unable to actually bring them inside. Their job was to bring them as close to the base as physically possible, leaving the last stretch to be completed on foot (or chair, in Eragon's case.) Because the atmosphere of Alagaesia was comprised of highly poisonous gases, in addition to the customary oxygen, all had been logically equipped with exobreathers for the trek.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before any of you get any bright ideas into your sensible little heads, I would like to remind of the _dangers _of your new environment," the man was sternly saying again. "While this a very pretty moon, it's also filled with all sorts of plants and animals that would live to rip you limb from limb. So, _please, _don't run off into the woods the moment you set foot off of this ship. No one here is wasting the resources it would take to send a search party out for you."

This remark was pointedly offered to the scientists present, and by the serious look on the man's face, he had been speaking from experience. Murtagh muttered something profane under his breath. Nasuada rolled her eyes at the implication the warning was even needed. Worryingly, Orrin looked just as chastised as a child that had been caught sticking his hands into the cookie jar.

After receiving even more orders to proceed in an orderly fashion to the debriefing room, everyone present strapped on their exobreathers and hastened down outside as soon as the ramp had lowered. Eragon's disability gave him damn good reason to lag behind the pack and survey his new surroundings for the next six or so years.

Even more vehicles were shuttling supplies to and from the _Pioneer. _Walkers and other robotic means of transportation stomped their way by him. More than several of their drivers looked more than slightly pissed at the crippled man who had chosen to gap at his surroundings right in the middle of the road. The trees and undergrowth of the forest had been pushed back, but Eragon could still see the massive trees that encircled the base. He also noticed the formidable defenses that protected one of the few human strongholds in the solar system, such as the electric fence clearly meant to keep the ferocious native wildlife at bay.

Eragon could plainly see why such extreme measures were needed: One of the massive trucks rolling in from the gates had been positively destroyed. It had obviously been used for mining once upon a time, but the arrows and fire had ravaged its insides so badly the truck had barely managed to limp back home. Eragon half expected to see bite-marks on the tires, from the way the Dragons reacted so harshly to human technology.

"Rider!" Murtagh called above the roar of the passing machinery. "Get your ass over here before we both miss the debriefing!"

All too happy to comply, Eragon obediently rolled over. Something told him the novelty about Alagaesia would soon wear thin once he actually got down to work.

* * *

Debriefing had been a rather _interesting _affair. Colonel Durza 'The Shade' Carsaib was everything Eragon expected from a man who had been hardened after years spent in such a mercless environment. His gaunt face was sharp, with a predatory look of sheer determination that instantly earned him a former marine's respect. His severely cut hair was an almost violent shade of red. Due to the lighting, his intense brown eyes seemed to almost glow red. Despite his conspicuous appearance, Durza was known as 'The Shade' for a reason. He somehow managed to worm his way into everything happening in Carvahall, whether it be with the Avatar Program or with the RDA administrator herself. Despite having been a 'jar-head' in a former life, Durza's cunning mind made him a man not to cross.

"Welcome to the Dragon's Den, ladies and gentlemen," Durza had proclaimed to the gathered crowd. Behind him was a screen projecting pictures that changed every minute or so, displaying some of the most fearsome creatures on Alagaesia. "While we are _officially _known as Carvahall here, formality doesn't matter much in this neck of the woods. The fortunate fellows that were on your ship have been stationed at Ilirea, the hub of human presence here, or Therinsford, where the lazy go to easily mine the material most of you simply know as 'draconium.'"

The image behind him shifted from a fierce wolf-like beast to what looked like a bunch of sparkly rocks. The same kind of sparkly rocks that would sell for millions back on Earth. The same rock that fueled systems vital to the continued survival of the _entire planet. _

"The Valley of Eden is named aptly so. Despite the rustic beauty you will encounter here, _everything out there will try to kill you." _The picture again faded to reveal the image of something like the wolf-creature, only far smaller. "This little guy here is called a Sirius. He's about the size of a large dog back at home. Siri are also known to band together in large packs that can take out a Walker if the bastards are desperate enough. Their genetic cousins also happen to include Hellhounds, which are basically the size of your average pony, and the infamous Fenri, the size of your average _horse. _Every single one of them is prevalent in these parts, and just as clever as every other animal you'll encounter out there. And just as fierce."

One tentative hand in the back of the audience went up. "Isn't it the Dragons we should be worried about though, sir?"

Durza gave a vicious grin. "Oh, yes. Compared to the _native population, _the animals here are about as dangerous as those found in your common Earth petting zoo. While both we here at the Dragon's Den and Therinsford are situated in the Valley of Eden, only one of us is harassed so much by the Dragons. Millions in damage are caused each year by a native tribe that really resents our presence here. Why? Does it matter? Your responsibility here is to mine that draconium, or protect it and all of our behinds, or to serve as _diplomats._" Nasuada and Katrina exchanged a pissed look. "Do your job, and do it well, and maybe Alagaesia won't chew you up and spit you out before you've served your time here."

With that cheerful announcement finished, the stunned crowd quietly filed out of the debriefing room. Except for Eragon, who had caught the eye of the colonel. Prior training made him follow a man who was still his superior, and out of earshot of the others for a private conversation.

Up close with the infamous commander of Carvahall Security Operations, Eragon could realize that Durza's red eyes were not _entirely _caused by the lighting. His very irises seemed red and perpetually irritated, the skin around his eyes puckered with a long since faded burn scar that covered up most of his upper face.

Durza smirked at the other man's astonishment. "Like it? Sure as hell beats the other scars the pussies here have."

Curiosity overrode Eragon's natural sense of self-preservation. "What gave you it, sir?"

A rueful grin was his first response. "A fire-breathing dragon."

Eragon couldn't help but snort at the sarcastic reply. Contrary to popular belief, Dragons could not _actually _breathe fire, no matter at how good they were at igniting fires around the mining operation or blowing vehicles up. Roran had expounded at least that much into his thick skull. Even the creatures delightfully known as sirens, the modern creatures most related to Dragons and the ones that most closely resembled the monsters from fairy tales, could only give ear-piercing shrieks that could sometimes turn a man's mind into mush.

"Very funny, Colonel Carsaib."

"Durza, Rider, just Durza," the red-haired man interjected forcefully, though the amused look on his face never wavered. "Rumor has it you were a marine, once upon a time."

"I was, sir." He looked ruefully down at his useless legs. "Until a mine in a campaign ended my career a little earlier than planned."

"And now your mind is being placed in the body of a nearly indestructible and terrifying man-lizard. Quite a combination."

Eragon couldn't help but perk up at the first praise he had heard in a long time. It sure as hell beat the teasing he had received from nerds since his awakening from cryosleep. "Just fulfilling a _very _rewarding contract, sir. My loyalty is to the RDA, first and foremost." _Semper fidelis _had been ingrained into his head, after all, and that was something for a marine to be proud of.

Durza nodded. "Good to hear it, marine. Too many vets this days lose sight of what once kept them alive and together. All I want is to be kept posted on matters regarding the natives, for security reasons. Dr. Ripley and her associates tend to get too caught up in their little games and forget the Dragons they wish to befriend are hostiles who've damaged our operations since the very beginning. I would like information from an unbiased, trustworthy source, if it isn't too much to ask."

The honored look on Eragon Rider's face told him it wasn't.

* * *

The RDA administrator could have easily occupied the far more cushier and secure base at Ilirea. Gods knew that General Stephen Galbatorix had done the intelligent thing by insisting to be stationed there, operating the Security Operations of all three human settlements from the most luxurious place a human being on Alagaesia could get. The RDA administrator wanted to be actively involved with operations on the moon, and that meant being close to the center of the action. Carvahall was as close as she could physically get to the mines, for her higher-ups back on Earth wouldn't even consider sending her out to the temporary bases and mines beyond that point.

Mrs. Islanzadi Greene sighed and tried to avoid the reflection cast by her darkened monitor. Her raven-black hair had recently developed some gray streaks she didn't like one bit. She had never been too fond of wrinkles and aging in the first place, signs of wisdom be damned.

As if anyone here really cared. She was literally light-years away from the fads and influence of Earth. Even though men far outnumbered women on Alagaesia, and many of them were starved for women company, none would even dream of chasing after her anyway. Islanzadi was untouchable for the sheer reason that she was the highest authority anyone on this gods-forsaken moon could answer to.

Islanzadi instead focused on the virtual map spread before her, emerald-green eyes thoughtful. All information on the map before her had been mainly gleaned from robotic scouts sent into the area. The native Brightscales tribe had refused to allow even the Avatars closest to them to enter their ancestral homeland. Any sign of human technology discovered behind those invisible and impassable borders was promptly destroyed and never seen again. Even the satellites couldn't receive much data, due to the thick canopies obscuring most of the mysterious world beneath.

"Something bothering you, ma'am?"

Islanzadi startled slightly at the smooth and cultured voice, relaxing when she saw it was only Durza. The man was called Shade for a reason, after all. "Just the usual, Colonel Carsaib. Our profits are almost equally matched by what we have to pay to repair the damage caused by native interference and what it takes to prevent such attacks. Only even they _continue _to find ways around those preventive measures." Just the thought of such infuriating defiance caused her headache to flare up again. The woman groaned and rubbed at her temples to try and stave off the pain. "Any possible solutions you want to bring up?"

She had heard countless suggestions for more _persuasive _and _active _actions taken against the natives, and Islanzadi had dismissed them all. How many _sentient _rights groups had threatened legal action against the RDA for the questionable practices already in use? Or animal rights groups? Or important governments such as _the U.N.? _Islanzadi was not about to jeopardize the entire operation just so some aggressive man-children could cause another period of native domination and subjugation on an alien planet.

"None, ma'am. Since you aren't willing to use offensive force on those Dragons, there's nothing proactive our side can really do."

Islanzadi couldn't help but wince at the name. "Colonel Carsaib, you know how I feel about such terminology."

"And what else can we call the native population, ma'am? Not even you can pronounce _Skulblaka _correctly."

No, she could not. And the RDA administrator did not like being reminded of the fact her trigger-happy colonel could. "Thank you, colonel. How is my daughter faring?"

Dr. Arya Greene was one of the most important members of the Avatar Program, a xenozoologist who had graduated at the top of her class. (Granted, xenozoology wasn't the largest major out there, but Islanzadi knew her only daughter was still brilliant.) She was also one of the Avatar drivers that served as a diplomat most often, when Dr. Ripley was unable to do so.

"Apprehensive of the greenhorns, as always." Durza shook his head in amusement. "No idea where she gets it from."

Islanzadi wished her computer was on, if just to skim through the files she had amassed regarding the new drivers and scientists joining the Avatar Program at Carvahall. "I understand we have a very talented staff coming in this time. Dr. Katrina Butcher, the brightest xenobotanist on Earth, Dr. Orrin Kingsleigh, a man recommended for the program by Angela Ripley herself, and Dr. Murtagh Redman, who is already fluent in the native language and in their culture. It is Dr. Housou that I most anticipate, for her research shall make or break Project Chameleon." Islanzadi frowned as something unpleasant returned to her. "What of Roran Rider's Avatar? Was he not killed shortly before the _Pioneer _departed Earth?"

Durza nodded neutrally. "Indeed he was, ma'am. Roran had an identical twin, Eragon, that came instead. He was a marine back home, familiar with the strain of such conditions, and is highly disciplined. General Galbatorix and I agree that he''ll be an invaluable addition to the program."

Islanzadi arched a brow, gaze thoughtful. The last thing the Avatar Program needed was a hotheaded and stubborn soldier controlling a five billion dollar investment, but he had a unique sort of experience all other drivers lacked. How would such a thing turn out? "We shall see, colonel, we shall see."

* * *

That very same afternoon, after Murtagh had forced a very quick and early lunch down his throat, Eragon had seen himself unceremoniously dragged to the labs that housed the actual Avatar Program. Nasuada and Orrin had already been put to work on their very first day of arrival, having come to remove the Avatars from their portable tanks and prepare them for tomorrow's linking. Eragon couldn't help but watch the process from the windows. Nasuada's Avatar had a tendency to subconsciously kick every moment or so, and had almost sliced through one of the actual Nasuada's major arteries, in a shocking twist of irony.

Eragon first became acquainted with the head scientist who would be responsible for overseeing the linking and connection between him and his Avatar. He was a tall, lithe, middle-aged man with long hair and intense light brown eyes that seemed to pierce his very soul. Eragon wished he could have subtly inched away from this man. Everything about him seemed stolen from infamous movie mad scientists. He introduced himself only as 'Dr. Sol,' which only further solidified his insanity in Eragon's mind.

Katrina apparently shared the same fears. "Is that really your name?"

"No," a voice deadpanned for him. "His real name is Alistair Solembum. Naturally, he despises it as much as you all find it hilarious." Eragon instantly lost his smug smirk. "Since he'll be the one in charge of your mind and body when you're not in it, I suggest just calling him Al."

The woman entering seemed Solemn-bum's polar opposite. She was short, with a mane of curly brown hair she allowed to hang loose, no matter how many health codes and safety regulations it must have violated. Yet she too was middle-aged, and again her hazel-green eyes seemed to burn holes into Eragon's defenseless body.

Solembum, as he would forever be known to Eragon, glared daggers at the name. "Thank you for preserving my identity, Angela."

"No problem, Al. Regardless of my marital woes or wedding vows I may accidentally agree to while intoxicated, I will always be Angela. So, please, all of you call me that." She warmly shook Katrina's hand and seemed pleased by Murtagh's alarmingly extensive knowledge of Dragon language and culture. When she turned to Eragon, however, the electric warmth in her hazel eyes turned sharp. "So, you're the jar-head? I was hoping for your brother."

Eragon was unfazed by the callous truth. "Weren't we all? I just came here for the money, I admit it freely. Just assign me to security detail so I don't trample any endangered plant species or something."

Angela laughed pleasantly, all the while eying him as something nasty she had been ordered to dissect. "Count on it, Rider. I'd sooner allow a hyperactive puppy closer to the _Skulblaka _than someone like yourself." Angela smirked wryly. "But maybe you'd like to help me work on my side project? I always wondered if frogs were truly different from toads, or if they were just a unique subspecies. I could use an extra pair of hands for preparing specimens."

The former marine shook his head. "Nah. Knowing my scientific abilities, I'd probably find a way to blow all your research up."

Orrin frowned in confusion. "I thought Dr. Ripley was working with Earth-native amphibians?"

"Precisely," 'Dr. Sol' deadpanned. His attention switched over to several monitors he walked over to examine. "Arya is still linked to her Avatar, Angela. I was under the impression she was coming straight back here once you two were done documenting those new specimens found sprouting in several of the mined-out zones."

"Eh, you know Greene." Angela waved a dismissive hand. "She's running the obstacle course with the others. Apparently the woman is determined to become the first ninja Dragon."

Eragon curiously wheeled over to investigate the room his new 'boss' had exited from. Surrounding the room were several linkbeds, several of which were occupied by drivers still controlling their Avatars. Angela went over to one, knocking its metal lid so strongly it made Dr. Sol wince in instinctive horror. By the impish look in the other doctor's eyes, such torture was a part of the daily routine.

"Oh, Al, you know these things are built like tanks. Or at least the company was willing to fork up the millions to make them that way."

Katrina brightened, and looked ready to launch right into such a topic. Then she glanced out the window, where Orrin and Nasuada were still assisting in unloading the Avatars.

"Look, Eragon, that'll be yours coming out now."

Out of something he told himself was morbid curiosity, Eragon looked. His very own giant winged lizard was carefully being lifted out of its drained tank and lowered onto the table next to Murtagh's Avatar. Behind him, Angela whistled.

"You sure won the genetic lottery with that one, jar-head. _I _could almost mistake it for an actual Dragon."

"If it weren't for the fingers," Dr. Sol deadpanned.

"Great," was Eragon's blatantly unenthusiastic response.

_Just watch that body have a Dragon's instincts. They'll probably have to put it down when I lose control of my body and start ripping into a scientist. _

And that had just brought his appetite back to mind. Ration bars and water made a shitty first meal in almost six years, and his stomach screamed at him for some real food, gods dammit!

"What's for dinner?"

"Just Earth food," Angela replied. She paused thoughtfully. "Too bad, though, because a roasted Hogzilla always seemed so appealing. My students always seemed to love it."

Murtagh looked at her as if he had just been told his puppy had died. "What? I thought several Alagaesian dishes _were _served here."

Dr Sol. shook his head. "Not since the _Delois _Incident."

Katrina frowned. "I thought those plants were suitable for human consumption?"

"Not the way those cooks prepared them," Angela answered brightly. "Apparently a chemical in the plant interacted with something in the salad that night. The result was something that many claimed gave them the best high they ever had. We haven't carried tomatoes since."

**Next chapter: Hallelujah, plot advancement! Eragon finally gets put into his Avatar and starts wrecking havoc.**

**Brightscales: The Dragon tribe that inhabits the Spine, and some of the best mining sites on Alagaesia. Originally distrustful of their new human neighbors, diplomatic missions with the Avatars helped to improve relations and support the construction of a school for young Dragons ****to learn human culture and language. Due to heated skirmishes and violations of contracts some years back, tensions are and escalating due to further confrontations between ****_Bjartskular _****and RDA. **

**Valley of Eden: The wonderful valley nestled into the Spine Mountains, where both the Dragon's Den (Carvahall) and Therinsford are located. The mountains are them are both saturated with draconium, and some of the fiercest animals on the planet. Oh, and there's also the Brightscales tribe of Dragons that absolutely loathe the humans that come onto their land. (Known to the Dragons as Palancar Valley.)**

**Sirius (pl. Siri): Named after the legendary Orion's hunting dog, Sirius, which is also one the brightest stars in the Earth sky. Scientifically known as ****_Lupus miles _****(Wolf soldier.) A wolf-like creature not much bigger than one, but are lethal when they hunt in their typically massive packs. Known to the dragons as a ****_gharm._**

**Hellhound (pl. Hellhounds): Named after the hellhounds of Greek legend. Scientifically known as ****_Lupus dominus _****(Wolf lord.) Unlike their smaller cousins, the Siri, Hellhounds are largely solitary, except during their mating season. They are about the size of ponies, and are extremely aggressive and territorial, making them a danger to smaller mining groups without the protection of Walkers or Avatars. Known to the Dragons as ****_blodgharm. _**

**Fenris (pl. Fenri): Named after the wolf monster of Norse mythology, who will one day gnaw free of his bonds and help destroy the world. Scientifically known as ****_Lupus rex _****(Wolf king.) Fenri have inherited the worst qualities of their cousins, for they both roam in packs and are extremely vicious. They also happen to be the size of horses. Highly dangerous to even the most heavily armed groups. Known to the Dragons as ****_Shrrg._**


	5. Into the Dream

**Disclaimer: ****_The Inheritance Cycle _****and the ****_Avatar _****franchises do not belong to me. If they did, don't you think the Na'vi would have been more exotic than blue cat-people with tails? However, all original material does belong to me.**

Apparently the higher-ups in the RDA hadn't bothered to spend the millions of dollars necessary to ensure everyone stationed in the Dragon's Den had nice, cushy quarters all for themselves. Eragon should have figured as such. At least he was lucky enough to have been bunked with Murtagh. While the scientist may have snored, Orrin was the one stuck in the same sleeping quarters as Alistair Solembum (the man's last very relieved roommate having headed out on the last shuttle the year prior.)

Breakfast consisted of oatmeal and something yellow that vaguely tasted like scrambled eggs. Eragon shoved it down without complaint. With some satisfaction, he noted the other new Avatar drivers were far less enthusiastic about the menu. Dividing a severely limited food budget between a veteran and a workaholic of a grad student, each with their father's 'gift' of cooking and their mother's love of a home-cooked meal, tended to harden anyone's stomach (and taste-buds).

Introductions with some of the senior drivers had been a completely different matter. Out of the bunch, Eragon had only really liked Jeod 'Longshanks' Polk. The man was older, and had a love for culture that probably made him sound like a very old future Murtagh, but he had a sense of humor that would be a godsend in the middle of Alagaesia the Killer Moon.

Then there had been Dr. and Dr. Gemini. Both happened to be identical twins, who had chosen professions that had both sent them to the Avatar Program, and they supposedly even had identical Avatars. Castor and Pollux, who had been ironically named as such, were simply called 'the Twins' by their comrades. Even their uppity attitude was too damned similar to tell apart.

"You are Dr. Hounsou, correct?" one twin asked, scrutinizing the newcomer with a look that must have come out of some old high school drama. "The one heading Project Chameleon?"

"The very same." Nasuada extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you... er, Castor?"

"I am Castor," the other identical man intoned. "We have eagerly been following the news of the project, which could lead to groundbreaking research in the studies of Alagaesia. The pool for the driver of the experimental Avatar was very competitive. Your father must be so proud to know that you've won the position over so many other experienced and well-qualified candidates."

By the flushed look on Nasuada's face, Eragon decided to interrupt the conversation with his typical tact. "Speaking of Avatars, don't Orrin and the Solemn One want us soon for link-up?"

Yes, it wasn't that original, but it was all the excuse Murtagh needed to drag his nerdy crush out of disaster. Eragon calmly followed them out of the mess hall. He pretended to be oblivious to the dirty looks the Twins gave him while he mentally added another two names onto the list of 'People Most Likely To Kill Me While I'm Stuck Inside a Lizard's Body.'

Oh, and he was also thankful that he had never given to Roran's demands to actually put effort into his schoolwork. Gods knew the world didn't need any more creepy scientist twins out there.

* * *

Peering into the glass that served as the barrier between the last stronghold of reality and the crazy shit beyond, Eragon tuned out most of Al's droning lecture about safety and preparation as he again looked upon his imminent doom. The four Avatars were all laid out on metal tables that reminded him all too much of those used for autopsy. Their life supports had been removed and had been replaced with hospital gowns that were entirely useless.

_Big fat load of help those are. Those bodies already take care of the modesty business. Guess its just __for our peace of mind, even though those aren't even our real bodies, and no sane human being could ever be attracted- _

Realizing exactly what dark path he was heading down, Eragon gave himself a mental slap and struggled to catch up.

Murtagh glowered heatedly at the former marine, but at least saved him from Al's wrath by casually saying, "So Katrina goes first, in order to make sure Orrin can get used to standard procedure, and then it's me and Rider?"

Dr. Sol impatiently glared right back with sharp brown gaze, though most of it seemed to be reserved for Eragon. Damn scientists and their observation skills. "Correct. To put it bluntly, you three are just the shit that we all want to get out of the way. Project Chameleon has been anticipated for years now, and the entire thing will be made or broken as soon as we make sure none of you have fucked up our five billion dollar investments."

Eragon encouragingly slapped Katrina on the back, anxiously watching as the young woman who could have been his brother's true love climb into a link-bed that resembled a coffin.

"Don't struggle when your mind starts to get carried away," Al instructed as he hooked her up. "We've had enough brain-dead bodies for one base."

Then the hatch was lowered, and Katrina Butcher vanished from view. Four pairs of eyes nervously turned back to window, where a team of scientists all clad in exobreathers crowded around the copper-scaled Dragon... And watched as golden brown eyes fluttered open with a gasp.

Everyone in the room silently watched as the scientists crowded around the sort-of-Katrina, quickly going through the standard procedures. The copper Dragon moved her limbs as instructed, though the swish of the tail that sent Orrin colliding with the war probably had been an accident. Katrina grimaced apologetically, then caught sight of the others gaping back at her. She gave a thumbs-up to them, along with a fanged grin that would have given a young child nightmares.

"Should we be worried about that happening to us?" Murtagh asked.

Nasuada nodded grimly. "Oh, yes. Your mind will be put into a very alien body, and it _will _freak out on a subconscious level when it realizes it has a few extra limbs to spare. It'll want to establish connections with them as soon as possible, which means a scientist not paying attention will probably get a face-full of wing or tail. It sometimes happens to experienced drivers, or so they claim."

Eragon mentally filed away that one. So he could get in a punch on someone he had a grudge against, and could blame it on reflex? Yep, he'd definitely remember that.

...If his mind wasn't about to be turned into mush.

Dr. Sol turned back to the next two drivers. Eragon almost expected a maniacal mad scientist grin to be all over his face, but the gleam of sadistic pleasure in those eyes got the point across. "Your turn, men."

Refusing to allow himself to be intimidated by the man with the most embarrassing name on the entire moon, Eragon rolled over to the link-bed he had been directed to. Heaving himself up, and dragging his legs into position, he tried not to think of just how much this reminded him of being sealed inside a cryo-chamber for nearly six years.

Al was then by his side, promptly hooking things into place. Nasuada had gone to link up Murtagh, who was probably enjoying the experience a hell of a lot more than Eragon was. He was also sure that Al was only doing a thorough job to make sure he couldn't be implicated for making a five billion dollar meat puppet useless without a mind to control it.

Then the top of the link-bed was coming down upon him, Nasuada's professional voice addressing them calmly.

"Don't panic. Just look at the pretty colors, and let your mind drift away."

Clenching his jaw, Eragon did as he was told, and absolutely refused to fight when the pretty colors began to flicker in front of his vision.

_Look at the pretty colors, dammit! There's blue, and red, and purple and- oh, gods, why did I ever agree to-_

* * *

His head was pounding as if he had just woken up with the mother of all hang-overs. He hadn't felt like this since the night of his high school graduation, which had involved something that tasted like gasoline and many things never to be repeated out-loud. Come to think of it, his back also ached as if he had fallen asleep on a bed of metal spikes, and so did his legs-

Eragon's eyes snapped open, and promptly shut with a very snake-like hiss of pain when the brightness threatened to sear them.

"Easy, Rider," an unfamiliar voice whispered. It still managed to be deafening to his hyper-sensitive ears. "Just open your eyes."

Slowly, Eragon cracked open his eyelids as he forced himself to get used to the light. Colors and shapes began to take shape with detail he had never seen them in before. It was like he had telescopes glued to his eyes. He could see every detail of the unknown scientist's face leaning down in front of him, despite the exobreather getting in the way.

"Your senses are far stronger in this body," was the unknown scientist's blatantly obvious reply. "Can you get up into a sitting position for us? Take it slowly."

Forcing his stubborn muscles to respond, Eragon managed to get his newly clawed hands around the table in a sturdy grip. Using this as added support, he eased himself up from the table. His neck was several feet longer than he last remembered it, and holding his head up too more effort. Still, it also provided a better vantage point for everything he craved and dreaded to see. And just getting the pressure of lying on his _wings _off was a welcome relief.

Yep. The big dark blue scaly body, mottled with lighter blue and clothed in a totally useless hospital gown, was there now. As if he could care less. Eragon's attention quickly shifted to his- _the Avatar's _legs and feet. Apprehension filled him as he willed muscles that hadn't answered him in years to respond.

Toes with talons that would make an eagle jealous wriggled back. Eragon gaped as if he had just been slapped with a fish. The awe and overwhelming fear he had been feeling up until mere seconds ago had just suddenly morphed into giddiness.

"See?" Orrin said brightly as he came over. "Your mind wasn't damaged, just the part of the spinal cord that connected it to your lower body. In the Avatar-"

Tuning out the meaningless words about examinations and potential hidden problems, Eragon used his long neck to inspect the Avatar's form more thoroughly. He picked at a scale until he realized it was like pulling large clumps of hair. His attention then shifted to his bat-like pair of wings, and trying to get the muscles within them to respond. Could he fly? No, he suddenly remembered he couldn't. The wings were vestigial, just about as useful as wisdom teeth or an appendix was for his real body.

Again going back to his new mobile lower half, Eragon decided to aim a dream a little bigger. Moving the actual legs instead of his clawed toes, he carefully positioned himself until his feet were flat on the floor, arms braced to push himself off the table completely. The flustered scientists around him quickly hastened forward.

"Um, Eragon?" Orrin queried tentatively as he inched closer. "This Avatar is worth more than either of what you or I will make in our entire lifetimes. There can be problems with the link-up, remember? Let's just take things slowly and carefully." As Eragon's muscles tensed, his querulous voice rose yet another octave. "Nasuada views this as one of her babies. You don't want to hurt one of her babies on accident-"

The blue Dragon rose from the table, putting faith entirely into his new legs. Legs that had never before had to withstand the weight of a massive reptilian body. Lurching precariously forward, Eragon reflexively held out his arms to steady himself. His tail also worked instinctively to restore balance. Unfortunately for Orrin, he found himself in the way of that instinct, and yet again unceremoniously shoved into the wall.

"Sorry!" he tried to call out.

All that came out of his mouth was yet another strangled hiss.

"Eragon!" Katrina snapped with a heavy lisp, barely managing speech herself. She was still obediently on her own table, and looked mortified at his behavior. "Sssit back down before you break sssomething!"

Unable to find himself able to stop, the Avatar continued wobbling around like a toddler. A toddler that happened to be several feet taller than the largest man in the room, with claws and horns to boot. Disgruntled scientists scurried out of his way to avoid accidentally being impaled on something sharp. Several of the braver ones even rushed forward to help being again being pushed away by his thrashing limbs. Eragon continued trashing everything in his path. That accidentally included overturning Murtagh's own table and sending the red Dragon on it falling to the floor with a yelp.

_It's so crowded in here. Too crowded. I can't even move without bumping into something or someone. Don't they see I need a hell of a lot more space then them right now? And when did the ceiling get so low, and the air so damned hard to breathe?_

Instincts he had never noticed before jostled for attention. There were too many strangers around, and the scents they gave off were too bitter for his nose to handle. The clatter of swearing scientists and falling objects was too loud to tolerate. There wasn't enough space, he seemed almost able to bump his horns on the suffocatingly low ceiling. So what could he-

Sky! He wanted the wide open sky above him! He needed the quiet of the forest, the scents of home and prey his heart of hearts craved. The desire for space suddenly seemed as essential as the Alagaesian atmosphere that was being pumped into the room for his benefit. Wildly glancing around, Eragon spotted the open door, and bolted at his one chance for freedom. Now matter how freaking clumsy he was, the scientists and the other Avatars of his friends were too busy tripping over themselves and the mess he had unintentionally made to catch up.

The wing he was currently in had been specially constructed for Avatars to navigate comfortably. The hallways were broader, their ceilings taller. Air from the alien climate just outside its walls was pumped in. It also meant doors to the world outside could be left open in that section without fear of everyone inside suffocating, for all the human beings wore exobreathers.

With a glimpse of blue sky just tantalizingly out of reach, the Avatar quickened his pace and did his best to weave around the bewildered people in the hall. Most of those he had been unable to avoid were smart enough to duck out of the way. Those that hadn't would eventually recover and, perhaps with therapy, come to forgive him.

Fresh air suddenly flooded his nostrils as the blue Dragon in a hospital gown burst into the great outdoors. Sure, it may have been tainted from the stench the numerous Walkers and other vehicles gave off, but it was a helluva improvement. There was sky above him now, and Eragon could feel instinct subsiding as reason finally took back complete control of his body.

But why should he stop running so soon? For gods' sakes, he'd just gotten the use of _some _pair of legs back! Outside he now had the space to go wherever he pleased without having to risk bumping into something. His gait was evening out as his body adjusted to again having working legs on an alien body. With just a bit more practice he would be able to _walk _around as an overgrown reptile without feeling ridiculous.

"Hey, asshole!" A Walker suddenly veered to his right, disrupting the entire flow of traffic. "Get the hell out of the way!"

Grinning dumbly at the pissed driver inside the cabin, Eragon raised a hand in apology and continued on his merry way. There was clear ground just ahead, and what looked like an obstacle course.

Avatars were running the course, climbing over walls or leaping over lower ones. All were dressed in clothing that looked like actual clothing, if modified for the larger bodies and the wings and tail, and everything was far more dignified than his crappy gown. Several smiled fondly at him as they reminisced on when they had been that uncontrollably giddy in a highly dangerous body. Most grumbled something about how newbies were getting stupider with each rotation.

As he turned around, intent on starting the obstacle course from the very beginning, Eragon was finally forced to stop as another Avatar nearly collided with him. This emerald-green Dragon skidded to a halt, barely managing to avoid impaling itself on his damned horns. From the graceful build and slender horns, she was obviously female. With eyes as green as her scales, she gave him a look cold enough to freeze fire.

Then, not even bothering to hear out his stammered apology, she lightly picked herself up and vaulted over the closest wall.

"Don't mind Arya. Ssshe'sss like that to everyone new."

Eragon started at the familiar voice, distorted only slightly by a reptilian mouth. A lighter green Avatar smirked wryly at him, arms crossed. Even if she didn't have the curly mass of a crest on top of her head, he'd be able to recognize her by that smart-ass smile alone.

"Aaangellllaahhhh?"

Flickering her tail, the other Dragon rolled her eyes. "I'm guesssing that was your very firssst word in that Avatar? Aw, I'm flattered. Now come over here and get the hell out of the way before sssomeone with lessss poissse than Arya runsss you over."

Feeling like he wanted to lie down right there and die of mortification, Eragon walked over, still taking the opportunity to relish digging his bare feet into the soft earth beneath them. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure the emerald-green Avatar wasn't within earshot, before hissing, "Iiisssss sssssssheeee aalllwaysssss liiike thhhaat?"

"You got in her way jussst asss ssshe wasss about to break her time record. What do you think?" She grasped him firmly by the arm, marching him back to the base. "Now come back with me before you give sssomeone a heart attack over what you could have done with that little routine. And take care to learn how to ssspeak properly. You sssound like you're choking on sssomething."

The rumble of irritation that bubbled forth from his throat was completely unintentional. But Eragon still practiced silently mouthing words. For his efforts, he cut his tongue on a fang.

* * *

Back in a wheelchair, his brand new lizard-bat body securely stored elsewhere, Eragon halfheartedly picked at the dinner placed before him. The server had told him it was rice and chicken substitute, for any idiot knew there was no way in hell the RDA would pay to have real livestock shipped light-years across the galaxy. From the way his 'meal' tasted, Eragon suspected they had just frozen the chicken meat back on Earth. Six years later, when it had finally arrived, the cooking staff had just cooked it alongside whatever mysterious insect eggs they had found with it.

And now he had just killed his own appetite. With a sigh, Eragon threw down is fork in surrender.

"This crap would be painful enough to eat on a good night. I can't even _think _of doing it when my body refuses to cooperate."

"That would be the difference between man and Avatar you're getting accustomed to." Jeod looked over at Katrina, who had simply grabbed a plate to shut up the nagging concerns. She had just finished up her rice mountain and was adding a fortress of semi-frozen chicken to the top. "You've all just been ripped from a body with senses far sharper than yours for the first time. Trust me, you'll all be over it soon enough."

"Soon isn't good enough," Eragon answered, shoving over his barely touched plate to Katrina. "Want some reinforcements?"

Their food fortress was something any picky young child would have been envious of.

"How's Nasuada?" Murtagh asked anxiously. "Last I heard she had to go to the medical bay because of... complications."

Jeod shrugged. "She's the tester for Project Chameleon, isn't she? Connecting to an Avatar the first time is upsetting enough." He glanced over to the not-so-edible landscape being created. "I'm sure all of you know that well enough. Imagine going into a body that is Draconic as possible, as far away from humanity you can possibly get."

"Why are they even doing this anyway?" Eragon muttered. "No person in their right mind risks billions of dollars on 'scientific curiosity.'"

Murtagh and Katrina exchanged a glance. "Most of the details are classified," he said at last. "Personally, I think they're trying to tap into the sixth sense."

Eragon was unimpressed. "They want to see ghosts?"

"Other sixth sense," Katrina corrected. "Amongst themselves, Dragons rarely use verbal speech, and the physical signals they use aren't complex enough to get anything more than simple messages across. We believe the Dragons have a sixth sense, or a highly developed one of the original five, to communicate without the need of speech or signals."

_Really? _"They're telepathic?"

The copper-haired woman shrugged, continuing to mess with her food. "Maybe. I don't know what you could call it. Either way, Dragons have a perception of the world not even the Avatars can reach. Does the human DNA in them blot out the sixth sense, or is there an unknown biological factor in play? Either way, I think that's what Nasuada is supposed to find out in Project Chameleon." She frowned thoughtfully. "So, what if they finally manage to reach that sixth sense? Gotta wonder what they would need it for, aside from understanding Alagaesia better."

The answer was painfully obvious, for Eragon himself had once been a guinea pig for new technologies being introduced to the field. "War," he simply stated.

Jeod sighed. "Damn right. Imagine soldiers that could communicate, relay plans and messages without the use of transmitters and other technology that could be picked up by the enemy. Perhaps information could even be sent around the world. It could perhaps change the way we made war."

Leaving the scientists to stew over the possibilities, Eragon returned to fiddling around with his food, and thanked the gods for being physically incapable of being called into service again.

**Next chapter: Guess what, we're just about ready to leave the base and enter actual plot territory! Eragon and Murtagh are preparing to venture out on an expedition with Angela. Who else do we care about is coming around for the ride? Arya Greene, daughter of the most powerful woman on the planet, and Orik Angstrom, a man that happens to be an actual dwarf.**

**Sixth Sense: Amongst themselves, ****_Skulblaka _****rarely rely on verbal speech, and their physical signals do not seem complex enough for advanced communication. Scientists currently speculate that Dragons have another method of communication altogether. Theories range from using pheromones to transfer information like beehives, to having a completely brand new sixth sense completely separate from the traditional five (sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing.) Avatars do not possess this sixth sense, for perhaps the human DNA drowns the genes for it out. However, if it could be understood and studied better, the ramifications for the RDA and the human race at large could be endless.**


End file.
